


Transistor

by verus_janus (Methleigh)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methleigh/pseuds/verus_janus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus' father, unusually, gives him an actual present.  He wishes things were different.  He <i>wants</i> to be gentle and love his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transistor

Severus lay sprawled on his bed - it was the only seat in the room. Not allowed to practice magic outside of school. He couldn't wait until he was seventeen and almost missed being younger. He was studying instead. Even if he was not favoured - not by Slughorn, not by Dumbledore - he was going to shine and when the time came he was going to get all his OWLs, and his NEWTs as well. He made notes on small neat pieces of paper to try different techniques when he got back to school - back to ingredients and spells. And books. When he was actually able to try them, he would put these modifications into his textbook with his careful tiny script. He hated vacation.

There was a knock at his door and he closed his eyes tight for a second. He had watched his mother leave and had thought his father had left as well. Why couldn't he put a warning ward on the door? He was surprised there was a knock and not simply an entry. He tucked the book under the pillow just in case and turned to look as if he had been taking a nap, though he would be chastised for sleeping in the day. He was not wearing his shirt, which embarrassed him, even alone, so he pulled on the yellowed smock over the sagging singlet. Unclothed was as bad as sleeping, he knew. He got up to open the door, pretending to rub his eyes.

It was his father, with a strange smile and a paper sack. "Yes, sir?" He knew it was best to admit it right away, normally, but he was not going to draw his father's attention to his idleness before he mentioned it. Maybe he wouldn't mention it. Something was odd. A smile. _What are you doing, boy?_ That was what he had expected, with the characteristic smack to his temple. His father never used his name.

Tobias closed the door behind him and tapped it sharply. "In case your mother comes home... from the pub." The last was said bitterly. "All that woman does is drink. Come, sit here on the bed." 

Severus obeyed, sitting with his back to the pillow, still hiding his book and quill. "Yes, sir."

"I'm your father, boy. You aren't a servant, don't talk like one. Grow a backbone."

 _Yes, sir._ There is no right answer. If he had not said it, his father would have told him to watch his mouth. Severus is quiet, waiting.

"But I'm not here for that. Look, I got you something." Tobias put the paper sack between them on the bed.

 _For me? But..._ "Thank you very much." He left off the 'sir' this time. He didn't touch the bag. Gifts were perilous, and almost unheard of. There was no Christmas, no birthdays. Was it a muggle holiday? His mother would be angry, if it was.

"Go ahead, boy." His father pushed it closer to him, smiling with his teeth. "It's not going to bite you."

He took it gingerly, hoping it was clean, hoping it was not some horrible rusted tool that was supposed to inspire him to labouring. It was heavy for its size, and he turned down the top slowly, preparing his face to smile no matter what it was. It had a black plastic loop and was rounded black plastic with some red deeper in the bag. When he took it out carefully, it was an oval shape, black with a red top with black spots. It looked like a ladybug box. It had the word 'star' in the centre at the top, clear eyes and tabs at the sides. Strange. He tried to open it, turning it over, pressing the tabs, mystified.

Tobias took it from his hands, turning it spots up and working the tabs, rotating them with his cigarette-stained thumbs. There was music, a crackle, a blurred voice, another crackle, more music of a different sort. "It's a transistor. A radio. I got it at the boot sale over the way. It was the Thompsons'."

Severus was attracted and moved closer, bending over it with his father despite himself. He had never had a radio. He could picture his mother throwing it over the back fence already, with oaths about muggle artefacts.

"See, this dial is the volume. And this one changes the station. Even you should be able to work it." Tobias held it up and turned it this way and that, showing him that this action caused the music to clear or break. "Here. I got it for you."

 _For me?_ He mentally asked again. He took it back, holding it in both hands, almost cradling it. "Thank you." He did not try to work it.

"Go ahead, boy."

He carefully turned the little dials himself, letting the sound rise and fall, trying to find the channels. He settled on a music station. A man singing.

_And when you ran to me  
Your cheeks flushed with the night.  
We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight,  
I held your hand.  
And when I awoke and felt you warm and near,  
I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears.  
Oh I love you, girl.  
Oh, I love you._

Lily. Just change the colour of her hair. His lips turned up and he turned his palms over the top as if to protect it. "Thank you." It was heartfelt this time.

His father's hand reached over and he flinched, cursing himself mentally for showing it. But the smile was still there and it was almost a caress, the big hand cupping his head just for a second, fingers in his black hair. "Just keep it from your mother... son. And not under the bed, with those books you try to hide from me. Look, if you turn it down very low, you can listen to it at night. She won't hear you, not with her head buzzing with drink."

His father looked right at him, into his eyes and smiled. "Son." Neither of his parents had touched him for as long as he could remember, except with efficiency or violence. Severus smiled back, only half-nervous. A quiet moment passed between them, a shared secret - their first.

"Dad." His throat was dry. His eyes stung. For a second, he had a father and he was a boy.

"Don't let your mother find it." And he was gone again.

Severus swallowed and tried to lower the sound until it almost disappeared. He rubbed his eyes and curled on the bed, holding the little radio against his ear. A door slammed below and he clicked it off. Where? There was a rail that held the sheet over his window. He hung it over the end between the wall and the cloth, where it couldn't be seen from the outside or the inside. He went down to make supper. Beans on toast.


End file.
